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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22944166">Angel City Demons</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/KindListener/pseuds/KindListener'>KindListener</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>L.A. Noire</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Coming In Pants, Desk Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Fantasy, kink bingo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:07:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,707</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22944166</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/KindListener/pseuds/KindListener</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Cole, Stefan, Leary, Roy and Jack all have something in common and it sure, as Hell, isn’t their aftershave.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cole Phelps/Original Male Character(s), Gordon Leary/Original Male Character(s), Jack Kelso (L.A. Noire)/Original Male Character(s), Roy Earle/Original Male Character(s), Stefan Bekowsky/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Buick Super</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stefan takes a drag on his cigarette, breathes out the toxic smoke that filled his lungs. It’s early days in the Traffic office. Leary’s saying something. Probably talking about how Stefan is a brainless meathead and he’s not defending himself in the slightest. Through the open door of the Traffic office is the L.A. police switchboard. Dozens of dizzy dames just waiting to be plucked off their feet and taken to bed, only to jaw on about their night to the next caller, on the line. But there’s one exception to the rule about switchboard operators. An officer with a mental state like a wrecked Buick. They never let him out on the job, not again. Not after— Well, not after. Anthony Lewis sits at his desk, answering calls and taking notes. Stefan shouldn’t feel this way. Not about a man. But he does.</p><p>What would it be like? With him; a broken toy that the state still wants their moneys-worth out of?</p><p>A kiss against his lips and a handful of his dark, dark hair, Bekowsky could take his time, rolling around in the papers that crowd his desk. Stefan would catch one of those soft, pink lips between his teeth as he thumbed the buttons of Anthony’s shirt and pulled off his black tie. That stupid, ugly striped blazer is tossed to the floor through their rough and tumble. The broken officer let out a short breath as he would curl his legs around Bekowsky’s slender hips. He’d stroke a hand down the operator’s clean-shaven cheek and he’d breathe out a sigh. Soft and dark, Anthony’s hair would pass through his fingers and the sucker’d moan out Bekowsky’s name like a damn whore.<br/>
“Stefan...”<br/>
“Shut your trap, kid.” He’d hiss back.</p><p>He sees such a gap between them, even though Lewis’s only a couple years younger than him. It makes sense; when he was Anthony’s age, he was working his way through Patrol, not on the switchboard. Different strokes, though.<br/>
“Bekowsky!” That draws him from his thoughts and his eyes leave the dark-haired kid outside. Thankfully, everyone’s gone, save for the two of them.<br/>
“Yeah?” He asks, quickly, and Leary cocks his head.<br/>
“You...feelin’ alright?” Leary wanders from his podium and places his hands on Stefan’s desk.<br/>
“Y-Yeah! Umm...”<br/>
“You keep starin’ outside, Bekowsky. You lustin’ after one of those switchboard gals?” Leary asks, lighting a cigarette and chuckling, lowly.<br/>
“Yeah, one of those switchboard gals...” Stefan lies, looking down at his bloated ashtray. He really should empty it.<br/>
“I’m after one of ‘em, myself.” That draws the attention off Bekowsky and, by God, if he doesn’t take the opportunity.<br/>
“You sly dog! Aren’t they a little young for you, cap?” He laughs and Gordon claps him on the shoulder.<br/>
“Hey! Watch your mouth, smart guy. I’m in my prime.” Gordon grins and looks through the crack in the door, presumably at this girl he’s after.</p><p>But no... Anthony would be all too happy to get on his knees for Stefan. After hours, no-one there to see their depravity. Darkness would encroach on them but they’d be too into it to care. Stefan would sit back in the kid’s chair and unbutton his fly, leave him to it. His kiss-bruised lips would be all kinds of heaven on his cock, this eager little thing on active duty for him, sucking Bekowsky’s cock like his life fucking depended on it.<br/>
“Oh, shit...” Stefan would bite his lip and roll his head back, one hand clutching at an arm of the chair and the other weaving into his hair. Looking down and seeing that between his outstretched thighs... That’d be... Fuck, that’d be... He’d reach a hand down to touch himself, slipping a hand into his slacks and moaning around the hot flesh in his mouth. “Fuck, Anthony... Jesus, that’s fucking good...” He’d draw his mouth off Stefan and kick his pants off, doubling over the desk, displaying that goddamn peach of an ass.<br/>
“C’mon, Bekowsky... I want it.” He’d whine and the Traffic detective wouldn’t be able to stand it.</p><p>“Hey!” A yell brings him back and Gordon looks concerned. “You look like shit, Bekowsky. You sure you’re feelin’ alright?” He asks and Stefan nods.<br/>
“Yeah. A cup of coffee should sort it.” He sighs, rubbing his eyes as Leary places a case file on his desk.<br/>
“Then get down to twenty-first street. There’s a stolen Buick Super out on the loose. Let’s track it down, yeah?” Gordon still looks concerned but nods and leaves the office, going to sit in his private office and have a shot of bourbon. Taking a breath, Stefan looks down and sighs. He’d have to call to the bathroom and knock one out before he heads over to twenty-first.</p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. International KB8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey, Lewis. My office. Now.” Gordon calls from his door and Anthony stands up, cheeks already going a bright red. The girls around him don’t make a sound. They just watch him as he makes his way to the captain’s office and close the door behind him. The blinds are all turned down so that can only mean one thing but Lewis plays dumb, just in case.<br/>
“Yes, Captain?” He asks and Gordon rakes his eyes up his lithe body, settling on the scar that extends from the end his left eyebrow and follows through his hairline, cutting a pale stripe into his scalp. Lewis is pretty but that part of him drives Gordon stark raving mad.</p><p>That madman... If only Gordon had gotten to him sooner, Anthony might not be scarred like he is, he might not have seventy-eight shades of paranoia. A knife from the back of his head to his eye socket. He managed to save his eye but not his sanity, not completely. Gordon just...lets himself have it some days. Some days, he can hardly bear to look at his scarred ex-protégé. Some days, like today, he has to remind himself that he can make mistakes and people do get hurt.<br/>
“Captain...?” He asks but Gordon is lost in thought as he gets to his feet, downs a cap of bourbon and approaches the younger man. He trusted him and Gordon still nearly got him killed.</p><p>He’s selfish.<br/>
“Gordon...” Anthony breathes in his cologne and the captain runs his lips along the length of his throat. Whenever Lewis comes into his office, now, they can’t just talk anymore. Consumed with guilt, Gordon lavishes affection on the kid. Selfish and illegal. He’s pulling this kid into an illegal act that he feels the need to perform under his own guilty conscience. A dry sob escapes the older man and Anthony pulls him into a tight hug, shushing him, softly. “Don’t worry, Captain...” He coos and Gordon bites at his lip.</p><p>He’s only saying that. Deep down, he probably wishes you were dead. Wishes that he never met you and that you were the one to be nearly lobotomised.</p><p>Soft, pink lips press to Gordon’s forehead and another dry sob shakes him. Fingers trace soft patterns onto his back, through his suit, the tenderness of the moment makes Gordon’s eyes sting with tears. Even after all this time, all this pain... Lips rest by Gordon’s ear, hearing him whisper soft words of comfort and humming sweet tunes as he holds the older man. Slowly and without letting go, Lewis locks the door and pushes Gordon against the side of his desk, drawing back to look at his Captain. Threading his long fingers into Gordon’s copper-coloured hair, Anthony presses a chaste kiss to his lips, feeling him melt into the gesture.<br/>
“Anthony...” He chokes out as his lips open slightly, accepting the blessing of Lewis’s lips against his own.</p><p>With a sweet familiarity, Anthony leans him over the desk so his back is flat against the mahogany, doubling over himself to claim the Captain’s lips, again. This time, Gordon’s chapped lips capture his, heatedly. He murmurs something between kisses. It sounds kind of like ‘I love you, I love you, I love you’ but Anthony knows that can’t be true, especially with that gold band round his finger. Large palms run the length of Gordon’s warm torso, feeling his pulse flutter just beneath the skin. When he pulls away, Gordon’s cheeks are painted a sweet pink and he’s breathless. He could do anything to this man. So he opts to continue, lips on Gordon’s and a hand on the Captain’s groin, feeling him twitch beneath the fabric. Stroking fingers goad his thighs apart and Anthony steps between them, watching Gordon hide his reddened face with his hands.<br/>
“Anthony...” He sobs out and the younger man leans down to place sweet kisses along his jaw and down his neck. Nimble fingers find the buttons on his shirt after, gently, pulling off his tie. The panels of his shirt part and pool at the Captain’s sides as slight touches and soft kisses pepper their way across his chest. Gordon strains against his pants, now, pre-come staining the front of his suit pants. Anthony purrs and licks a spot just below his perked nipple and Gordon’s breath goes haywire. Bringing himself back up to the Captain’s jawline, his sharp nips make Gordon whine and buck his hips, wildly. A hand inches up the inside of Gordon’s thigh and he looks up at Anthony with pleading eyes. When a hand cups the Captain’s painfully hard erection, Anthony takes the lobe of his ear between his teeth, playfully. As teeth graze over his skin and a hand rubs at his cock, Gordon loses himself in the sensations of it all. He reaches back to grab the side of the desk as he climaxes. “Oh, fuck...” He groans out as load after load is spurred into his briefs. Anthony’s lips claim his as his body twitches in the after-throes of his orgasm.</p><p>When this heavenly moment is over, Anthony will kiss his cheek and leave the room for Gordon to clean himself up. After all, he still has a department to run. If he stayed in his office, a lot more could end up like Lewis. At some point, Gordon should take him for dinner, after all he’s done it seems only fair.</p>
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